


Get Your Act Together

by johnmykawaiiwaifu



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-09
Updated: 2012-02-19
Packaged: 2017-10-30 20:19:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/335667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnmykawaiiwaifu/pseuds/johnmykawaiiwaifu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Dirk Strider and you have the most unironic crush ever. </p><p>((Rated Teen for language))</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written by the mysterious SB. I am only posting this for her as she is a technologically impaired johnegbertfan who doesn't have a ao3 account >:]  
> also i don't understand html soo ar's text will just be in italics for now.

Today is February 14, you know its Valentines Day but that doesn't really matter. You've just entered the game and Auto Responder has been trying to set you up since the session started. God dammit he's like a shipping cougar, it's actually really pissing you off. You know he means well… or as well as an emotionless 13 year old version of yourself embodied in a pair of shades can mean. But you're fine with keeping your secret a little longer. Hey, you've already kept it for this long; a few more years can't hurt. You know it won't work out anyways. But hey, you guess you can give it a shot.

 

_TT: Shit bro, you're going to have to do it eventually._

_TT: You might as well do it now._

_TT: Get it over with already._

TT: You are an idiot.

TT: Just leave me alone, I'll do whatever the hell I want to.

_TT: You know what? For a sixteen year old you're a fucking coward._

TT: That's rich coming from you.

_TT: I'm a pair of shades and I have more courage than you do._

TT: That doesn't even make sense.

_TT: All I'm saying is that you need to get your act together and do something._

TT: I'll pull my act together at a later date.

**-timaeusTestified [TT] changed his mood to OFFLINE-**

_TT: Wow._

_TT: Real fucking mature, dude._

_  
_

You space out for a while, just breathing. You guess he's right; you've got to do something at some point. But not now. Sometimes you wonder why you're so annoying. You sigh and rub your temples, telling yourself to calm down.

"Dirk, what's the worse that could happen?" You regret saying that, because the worse that could happen is pretty fucking bad.

You kind of zone out and chill on Derse for a while, though you're not really sure whether it's to escape your problems or to piss off Auto Responder. Both, you guess.

You snap back to reality and then the inevitable happens. And you aren't sure what comes over you but you listen to Auto Responder for once.

You do something.

 

**\- timaeusTestified [TT] began bothering golgothasTerror [GT] at 19:07-**

GT: Hey there dirk

TT: Sup. Jake, I need to tell you something.

GT: Could we chat later im a bit busy now

TT: Sorry, it's now or never.

GT: Well tell me then

TT: So, Jake...

TT: Fuck, it's hard to say this, but...

TT:...

GT: What is it

TT: I like you.

GT: Well i like you too dirk

GT: Youre a great friend

TT: No, that's not what I mean

TT: I like-like you.

TT: I like you in a non-platonic way.

GT: ...

TT: Fuck, I'm sorry. I'll leave now.

TT: Bye, sorry for making shit awkward.

GT: No dirk wait

GT: I appreciate what youre trying to say and everything

GT: And i really do like you as a friend and everything

GT: But i just dont think it could *US* could work out

GT: Sorry

TT: I know, I get it.

TT: You don't like guys.

TT: That's fine.

TT: It was stupid of me to think this could work

TT: Go have fun with Jane.

TT: I'm sure she'd love to talk to you.

**-timaeusTestified [TT] ceased bothering golgothasTerror [GT] at 19:12-**

GT: Dirk dont go.

GT: Im sorry

GT: Dirk?

**-golgothasTerror [GT] ceased bothering timaeusTestified [TT] at 19:14-**


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, editing later. please bear with this for now

It hurts more than you’re willing to admit, your rejection. Even though it’s not exactly a rejection.

Who are you kidding that was as rejection-ish a rejection can get. 

Squarewave hovers behind you, making little clicks and impatient buzzing. He’s clearly ready for another rap-off. But you’re not in the mood for one. You can’t think of sicknasty rhymes while you’re in such a depressed state. So you just wave your hands at him vaguely. You’re sure he gets the message, but he won’t leave. You would just tell him point-blank to leave you alone, but you’re afraid your voice might crack. 

You wave your hands more vigorously at him to leave, but he’s not going to go without a fight. 

“Squarewave, I don’t have time to disgrace you with my rapping right now.” Thankfully your voice only wavers slightly. 

“Looks to me like you’ve got nothing but time, bro.” His voice seems weird today, like a mixture of gravel and honey. It sends chills down your spine, which is not cool. 

“What’s wrong with your voice?” You take a deep, shuddering breath and try to keep yourself under control. 

“Nothing, my voice is always like this. Last time I checked all my stats were normal. And if this is some sick ploy to change the topic I ‘m not falling for it.” He starts bouncing back and forth, flexing his robot joints. 

“Just leave me alone, Squarewave.” And to your shame, your voice cracks. You need Squarewave out of here before you start crying. “Get out.” You try to sound as firm as you can through your sadness. You turn away from him as tears start to flow down your cheeks. 

“Please leave me alone.” You whisper. 

But he’s already gone. 

  


\--timaeusTestified [TT] began bothering timaeusTestified [TT] at 19:24-- 

_TT: Dude._

_TT: What happened._

_TT: Did you do it?_

TT: Stop acting like you don’t know perfectly well what went down. 

_TT: Ok, fine. Would you rather I said it like this?_

_TT: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA YOU GOT REJECTED._

TT: It wasn’t a rejection. 

_TT: It was such a rejection. Crying won’t change that._

TT: I object. 

_TT: Objection to the rejection?_

_TT: Well I object your objection to the rejection._

TT: Oh god not this again. 

TT: I don’t have time for this shit. 

TT: And how did you know I was crying? 

_TT: If I was you I would have cried._

_TT: And I am you._

_TT: So unless I suddenly lost all of my awesomeness in a horrible case of identity theft._

_TT: You’re crying._

TT: …

TT: Half of what you said didn’t even make any sense. 

_TT: But it did and though you’re being a complete idiot and I’m inclined to laugh at you some more._

_TT: I’m sorry that you’re hurt._

\--timaeusTestified changed his mood to OFFLINE-- 

TT: Wait.  

TT: What? 


	3. Chapter 3

You look at those last words Auto Responder typed. Why is he sorry? Is that even possible, for him to feel sorry? You don’t know, and quite frankly you don’t care. You just sink to the floor and cry. You never cry. In a way you’re scared of admitting to yourself you have emotions. But here you are now, a milestone in the life of a Strider.   
  
It’s weird.   
  
When you’ve finally gotten control of yourself you stay on the floor for a while, staring at your poster of Rainbow Dash. She smiles back at you and you have the overwhelming urge to cuddle something. But no. Striders don’t cuddle. So you just look, getting that familiar empty feeling inside of you when you’re holding everything inside, maintaining your eternal poker face. Having the surname Strider puts a lot of pressure on you to be cool, certain unspoken rules that allow you to do things and forbid you from doing others. Cuddling, for example. Not cool. Crying, emotion, ignoring a chance to be ironic, wanting attention, wanting affection. You can’t do any of those things. So you have to keep your deadpan expression.   
  
You could give Kristen Stewart a run for her money.   
  
Ok, you’re not that good.   
  
You pick up a few things and start tinkering with them. You make a few really small robots, letting them run around and crash into things. One little guy just face planted in your pile of puppets. You walk over and set him on his feet again, letting him scurry off in a different direction. They’re all so simple minded, so free. None of them have any problems; none of them have any pressure on them to be perfect.   
  
One makes its way towards you and bumps into your foot. It stops, confused, then turns around and runs away again. You wonder what its like to be one of them. It must be so nice.   
  
You think of all of your friends. Roxy. She’s got nothing but an easy life. Always drunk, randomly floating through the dream worlds. That accident with Frigglish or whatever he’s called was unfortunate. No seriously, what the hell is that cat’s name. You’re tempted just to call him that little fucker, but you really can’t be sure if Roxy would be offended by that.   
  
Jane spends all of her time baking, and probably eating said baked goods, and she’s got Jake. You really do like her, but it’s hard not to feel a little childish jealousy towards her from time to time. But then her incompetence makes you forget all about it. She’s so sweet when she doesn’t get something.   
  
And then there’s Jake himself. He’s got his quirks, sure. Like his obsession with skulls, that’s pretty messed up. But honestly you like some pretty weird stuff too. He has an odd way of speaking; sometimes you find it hard to really understand what he’s trying to say. But that’s probably what happens when you’re all socially awkward on a random island in the middle of nowhere. His life seems to be a constant adventure that would stress others out, but he’s all over it, the danger excites him, but you can’t help wondering if he’s taking on too much. But he has your robot to protect him, so you think he’ll be fine.   
  
All of them have such a good life. All with their downsides, yes, but they also have you. Though you’ll never admit it, you really look out for them. You don’t know what you would do without them. Probably die of boredom rapping against Squarewave and enduring your brother. He can be so annoying whenever he’s actually around.   
  
\-- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] at 20:03--   
  
  
Good. You needed a distraction.   
  
TG: hhhheeeeyyy direk  
  
TG: wats up?   
  
TT: Nothing really.   
  
TG: realllyyy  
  
TG: r u justt being all boring like ALWAYS   
  
TT: Auto Responder told you to talk to me, didn't he?   
  
TG: pfft noooo of course not  
  
TG: ok maybeee  
  
TG: but really dirk  
  
TG: waht happender  
  
TG:*happened   
  
TT: Nothing.   
  
TT: Or at least nothing that will be revealed to the likes of you.   
  
TG: something hasppendf   
  
TT: Roxy, you really don’t need to concern yourself with this.   
  
TT: Maybe you should go sleep everything off.   
  
TG: no im not going 2  
  
TG: we neeed 2 talk  
  
TG: really   
  
TG: im worried aboot u  
  
TG: *about  
  
TG: i dont want u to egt all depressedd  
  
TG: *get   
  
TT: How much has Auto Responder told you?   
  
TG: well kind a ecerything  
  
TG: *everythign  
  
TG: *everything  
  
TG: he told me what happened w/jaek   
  
TT: Fuck.   
  
TG: sorry   
  
TT: It’s none of your business, Roxy.   
  
TT: Please leave me alone, I can figure it out.   
  
TG: you canyt thats yhre thing dirk  
  
TG: *the  
  
TG: jeeez ur not a robot  
  
TG: your a human this is normal   
  
TT: I’m pretty sure I can cope with my own emotions.   
  
TG: the thing is u relly cant   
  
TT: It's not like it was that big of a let-down. I knew it wouldn't work.   
  
TG: yea  
  
TG: sure   
  
TG: ar told me how long its been   
  
TG: damn dirk u liked him all that tiem   
  
TT: . . . 

TG: why didnt u tell any of us??????   
  
TT: You don’t get it, Roxy.   
  
TG: get wat   
  
TT: It.   
  
TT: Everything.   
  
TG: maybeeee i want 2 hepl   
  
TG: *help   
  
TT: It’s complicated, Roxy.   
  
TT: I really appreciate your help and all.   
  
TT: But I don’t need a pity party.   
  
TT: Thanks, though.   
  
\--timaeusTestified changed his mood to OFFLINE--   
  
TG: really dirk  
  
TG: really  
  
TG: u cant do this alone  
  
TG: i can help   
  
\--tipsyGnostalgic ceased pestering timaeusTestified at 20:22--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol sorry for that reallly long roxy pesterlog


	4. Chapter 4

You don’t understand why everyone thinks that they can help you. They really can’t. You’re not some sissy little girl crying over her breakup, you’re _you_. Dirk Strider. You can have any human being kissing the very ground you walk on.

Except for Jake.

You guess he’s the one that got away.

You massage your temples and take your shades off for a minute, just letting yourself relax. Today’s been tough and it’s only 8:00. You have a lot more to deal with before you can rest.

The relentless buzzing of those little robots you made before was starting to annoy you, so you gathered them up and tossed them in a drawer. You could deal with them later. Looking around you, you realized you really don’t have anything else to do. Nothing is keeping you from some of your well deserved rest. But you can’t. You don’t want to. So you check in on Derse.

It always takes a little while for your eyes to adjust when you’re on Derse, and you slip your shades on in the dark room. You think about the attempted assassinations going on in the past while, and you look at the picture of Jane on the sleazy Dersite rag that you somehow always manage to get your hands on. Staring at that picture you realize maybe you should have been keeping a better watch on your friends.

If everybody ends up dead you won’t get very far in the session.

You see a shadow move in the corner, and realize you’d made the mistake of letting your dream self’s guard down again. It’s a Dersite agent, and he knows you’re awake. You know he knows. But you’ve got the element of surprise on your hands.

He doesn’t know you know he knows.

The agent comes closer behind you, and you hear a surprised grunt from him as Lil Cal attacks his head. The Dersite agent turns around to swat at Cal, and you take action.

It’s almost as if you’re outside of your body, watching. You see yourself lunge at the Dersite. You watch yourself with your shitty sword, perfectly comfortable with killing. You see the cut, so fast you almost miss it. And you see the decapitated head fall to the floor, followed closely by the body. And the blood. So much blood. You’re not the squeamish type but you always find the blood is the worst part. It gets on your hands and clothes. It’s like in Macbeth, it haunts your conscience.

You breathe deeply for a while, staring at the body on the ground. It’s a great brute, he had an axe, and a large one too. You kick it across the room. That thing creeps you out; it’s so big, with delicate detailing all around the blade. Almost as if it was mounted on a wall and he just pulled it off on his way here. Well maybe later you’ll find where it was before, it’s actually quite expensive looking, lucky you didn’t get any blood on it.

You stare at the blood on your hands some more. No matter how many times you kill someone it’ll always be the same. Another life you’ve taken away. But you aren’t the type to get sentimental about it so you do the sensible thing and heave the body out a window.

You’re kind of tempted to keep the head but that would be weird. Even for you.

Picking up the axe you try to think of some way to captchalogue it. Honestly your sylladex is pretty full right now, and you wouldn’t want to mess up its sicknasty balance. And you don’t really feel like thinking up some way to fit it in, you’ve learned to pick your battles.

You’ve got nothing left to do. Maybe you’ll just go ahead and do something with the axe? You don’t have anything better to do. You’re vaguely aware of someone messaging your waking self. It’s probably Roxy trying to convince you to let her help. Or maybe its UU telling you that she was wrong about your god tier, you have to wear a skirt. Or a tube top. Whatever it is it’s probably not going to improve your day. So you ignore it.

Heaving the axe over your shoulder you go outside. Its hard flying with this thing over your shoulder, but it’s going to be harder to find where it was before. You realize you probably should just stay in your tower, keep the whole “I’m totally still asleep” thing going. But that’s gotten old. Today is a day for taking action.

You have nowhere to start. Derse is an entire planet, painted with darkness and peppered with things trying to kill you. You wish you were a Prospit dreamer, golden towers, brightness, and those clouds Jane keeps telling you about. On Prospit you could have just asked someone if they knew where the axe came from. Or looked on the milk carton for a “missing axe” add. Ok, they probably don’t have those in Prospit but you can dream right? Especially when you’re your dream self.

It’s only logical.

You look down at the alleyways below, shrouded in black. It’s not a friendly place. A scream issues from somewhere down there, a voice pleading for mercy and a muffled thump as they fall to the ground. The screaming stops and you hear the quiet clinking of coins and a laugh. You know what they say on all those murder mystery shows like CSI and Castle. “Robbery gone wrong.” But it never really is.

You just hover there, as someone somewhere below you slowly dies. Or maybe the mugger took mercy and granted them a fast, painless death. But that was unlikely, Derse didn’t work like that. It was weird that you were calmly thinking about how much suffering the person below you was going through, how fast they would die. But you couldn’t bring yourself to help them. The words empathy and sympathy weren’t in your vocabulary; they’d been forgotten long ago.

You continue on your way, not really sure why you’d even wanted to return this axe to where it was originally. You’re not even sure it ever was anywhere. Maybe it was a family heirloom that had shed blood for countless generations, being passed down from father to son, mother to daughter. In that case you wouldn’t be helping anybody. Or it could just be some random axe that he’d picked up on the street. Or mugged somebody for.

You drift around aimlessly; losing the initiative to try and return the axe to whomever it belongs to. You wonder how you even had it in the first place. Slowly flying back to your tower you see Roxy, floating around with a drunken smile on her lips. She doesn’t know how good she has it, you think to yourself as she flies away. You once dreamt that your life could be normal. You would have a normal mother and father, you could go to school, there wouldn’t be any pressure to be perfect and cool. You would build robots and get a scholarship to some mechanical themed collage. That would be a perfect life, slowly leading yourself to a glorious victory. But you’ve since learned not to dwell on dreams. They’ll only disappoint you.

Reaching your tower again, you hear more screams from below. Except this time it sounds like a small child, lost and crying. The sound reaches something inside of you, it breaks your heart; you don’t think you’ve ever heard anything so sad.

Before you can really think about what you’re doing you drift down into the darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

You can hear the cries getting more desperate as you get closer, the axe over your shoulder making you struggle to stay in control of your flight. You land on the ground as quiet as you can, the cold of the stones seeping through your shoes. Another cry, another jolt inside of you. It sounds so raw, so sad, so in pain. You can’t bear to hear it again.

The screams echo through the darkened alleyways of Derse. You can’t tell where it’s coming from, so you tear blindly around corner after corner, as each cry becomes more desperate. You run past closed doors and windows with their black curtains drawn. Everything is black and purple, stone archways and checkered streets. Short Dersites hover in arches, their luminescent eyes following you. You hear a few mutter something about one too many drinks, you can’t be real, the Prince of Heart is sleeping.

Your feet slap the black and white ground, your heart hammers in your chest and your breath comes out ragged. You crash into a wall and blood flows from your nose. You'd dropped the axe a while back, you can't remember where it is. But it doesn't matter. You can tell you’re close to the screaming now, it seems like it could be right in front of you; the only thing between you and it is a boulder.

You leap into the air, clearing the boulder easily. Your eyes catch a flash of metal. Whirling around, you see what it is. A huge ogre swings a sword at you. Sword counters sword. Amazingly it holds the strength of the beast.

The ogre rears back to swing again, but something else catches your eye. A small Dersite on the ground, clutching several chest wounds, and a figure in the shadows behind it.

You jump out of the way as the ogre brings its sword down again, splitting the ground and creating a chasm between you and the wounded child. The shadowy figure emerges, laughing as it aims a shaft at your arm.

The figure fired.

The ogre swung its sword.

The arrows grazes your arm and you cry out in pain. The sword misses, but only just.

The figure is still laughing as it nocks another arrow, but the sound became different. Evil. Deadly. The sound of doom.

You can’t get caught between the sword and the arrow again, and you need to make your move. You have no other choice.

You leap.

The chasm looms beneath you and you stagger when you hit the ground, the arrow flying over your head, missing by inches.

The figure stops laughing, grabs another arrow and aims at you, its eyes narrowing. You can see it better now, it’s grossly disfigured, its amber eyes crooked, a pale scar running all the way down its face. Almost as if it had been ripped in half.

You rise up from a crouch to a standing position, holding your sword and moving so you’re between the monster and the child. It fires the arrow, and you leap aside, giving it a wide berth.

The poor thing on the ground whimpers as you stand near it. You’re tempted to comfort it, promise everything will be alright. But you need to focus.

The figure is running out of arrows, it has two left. It aims, feints to the left and fires at you.

You jump back just in time, and lunge at the thing, taking it by surprise and bringing both of you to the ground. Its bow skittered across the ground and it swung a roundhouse punch at you. You bent backwards and felt its knuckles swish past your nose.

It landed a solid hit on your shoulder and you staggered backwards. You swung a right punch. It dodged. You kicked, your foot crunching into its face. Backing slowly towards your sword it eyed its own bow and arrows. You both leapt for your weapons.

Sliding along the ground you grabbed the handle of the sword and whipped around, an arrow skimming past your face.

The thing had one arrow left, and you could see it was reluctant to shoot it. You sprung at it.

It fired its last arrow.

You swung your shitty sword.

The arrow buried itself in your arm and you gasped, bringing your sword down on the creature. It dodged out of the way, but you were faster. You landed heavily, swinging your sword in a wide arc towards the dark thing. It dug deeply into its neck and it staggered back, clutching its throat and gurgling softly.

You saw it limping away from you, a trail of dark blood pooling in its wake. And then it collapsed. You hurried over to the Dersite on the ground and pried its hand away from its chest, inspecting its wounds. It has a few minor scratches that just look bad, and an arrow sticking out of its stomach.

“It hurts.” It whispers to you.

You don’t have anything to bandage its wounds with, so you just hold it in your arms. You’re not sure how to remove an arrow from flesh, but you just yank yours out. It hurts so fucking much. You gently pull on the arrow in the young Dersites chest and it cries out.

“This is going to hurt like hell, but it’s worth it. “ You whisper to it. “I need you to be brave for me, ok?”

It nods and whimpers and you pull out the arrow. It gasps, but doesn’t cry out. You realized the ogre isn’t there anymore. It’s just you, the small child and a corpse.

“You ok?” You press your hand against it, staunching the flow of blood.

“Yeah.” It sniffs and looks up at you with its big, white eyes.

“So you got a name or something?” You can feel yourself smiling but you force yourself to keep a neutral expression. You hope it didn’t notice but the ways its smiling you can tell they have. “Mine’s Dirk.”

“August.” So it’s a girl. But the one thing that really hits you is her name. August. You remember once, when you were younger, two people came to your apartment. There was a man with black hair, dorky teeth and glasses. He was really nice, always ruffling your hair and laughing when you patted it back into place. He was with a woman. You can’t remember much about her, except she was really sweet. All smiles and she had the nicest laugh. You also remember her long brown hair because it was so fucking shiny. They told you a poem, it was about the month August, and for some reason you remember it. That day with those two people was probably the fondest memory of your life. Hearing August, your heart aches. They never came back. And your bro was so sad the first time you brought them up you never spoke about it again.

Stroking her cheek you start to recite it:

“The fairest of months,

ripe summers Queen.

The hey-day of the year.

With robes that gleam with sunny sheen

sweet August doth appear.”

She smiles at you and cuddles into your chest, her breathing soon becoming soft and rhythmic. You just sat there for a while, endless silence, and warm August held close to you.

Eventually her breathing becomes slower and slower, more ragged. She wakes up at one point, staring into your eyes. She presses her small round face into your shirt. “I love you, Dirk.” She hugs you and you stiffen, but only for a moment. Then you relax into the hug, holding her close as her fluttering heart skips a beat. Then another.

And then stops.


	6. Chapter 6

You sit there for a while, dead August in your arms. You don’t understand why it hurts so much. You knew her for a total of 10 minutes, but it feels like so much longer. You don’t know what to do with the body. You can’t just leave it here, to rot on the streets, but it’s not like there’s anywhere to bury her. 

Her face is so peaceful, you wonder if she died in pain. You honestly hope she didn’t, she deserved so much better than that. It doesn’t seem fair; everything you loved has been slipping away from you lately. You’re kind of surprised to admit to yourself that you have the emotion “love”. And that you felt it for August. 

And then it really sinks in that she’s dead. 

You don’t want to admit it, but you started flipping out. You stroked her face, telling her to stop pretending, it’s not funny. You pretend she’s just sleeping, she’ll wake up in a minute, just you see, Dirk, everything will be alright. And when that doesn’t work you start shaking her. Her lifeless body sagged in your arms, and you shake her harder. 

Why won’t she wake up? 

You hear a sigh behind you. It sends shivers down your spine. It’s so young, and yet ageless at the same time. It sounds like a sigh that has been sighed exactly the same thousands of times. The sound that’s both your sweetest dream and worst nightmare. 

“Why do you always shake them?” Death asks from behind you. 

You look over your shoulder, hugging August close to you. He looked just like you’d always thought he would. Tall, cloaked in black, nothing but a skull. You thought he would be frightening, holding a scythe and such, but his cool, collected appearance somehow made him even more imposing. You knew how to deal with fear, but dealing with diplomacy was another thing. 

“I don’t know.” You said slowly, looking down at August. 

“She’s dead, Dirk.” 

“I’m trying to wake her up.” You whisper. 

“It doesn’t work like that.” 

“I know, but that can’t stop me from trying.” 

Death shook his head, and sighed again. 

“Please don’t take her.” You look up at him, feeling so small, sprawled on the ground, clinging onto a corpse. 

“Dirk, please. Just let me get my job done, and then everything can go on as it should.” 

“No, please don’t take her. Can’t you bring her back?” You knew all the pleading you could muster wouldn’t help; Death wasn’t exactly known for taking pity on friends of the dead. 

“Dirk, do you need a cup of tea?” He conjured a cup and saucer out of smoke and stirred it around with a little silver spoon. “I think you need a cup of tea.” 

“No I don’t need-” 

“Take it.” Death cut you off, handing you the tea. “It’ll do you some good.” 

You take the cup because you don’t want to disagree with Death, but you’re really not a huge fan of tea. But the cup was very nice. It was all the reds, oranges, blues and greens of life. Which was kind of ironic, the cup of life, in the hands of Death. 

“So Dirk. Let’s think about this rationally.” Death reached his hand out towards August, but you held her tighter, spilling some of your tea. It burned like hell when it hit your skin. 

“Be careful, it burns the living.” 

“Then why the fuck did you give it to me?” You grit your teeth, not letting Death see the pain. 

He shrugged his bony shoulders. “Force of habit.” 

You gently set down the tea cup. “Please don’t take August.” 

“I have to. If you wish I can permit you to speak to her one last time. And I guarantee she’ll be waiting for you when the time comes.” 

“You mean when I die.” It comes out so flat, so matter-of-fact. 

“Yes, Dirk. Now I don’t think you understand exactly what’s happening here. People die every second, and I need to be there every second to take their souls and put them to rest. Just me talking to you means thousands of souls are floating around in the air, confused and helpless as we speak. Every time someone dies, someone is born, so the world remains balanced. If I don’t take August’s soul, the balance would be upset.” 

“Please-” 

“Dirk. Dying is a natural occurrence.” Death sounded impatient, and indeed he was. You could tell he’d never had this happen before. 

“Can’t you do some kind of trade? Maybe I could die instead.” You don’t know where that came from, but you realized maybe if you died all the pain would go away. 

Death laughed. It was a cold, bitter laugh, lacking any kind of happiness. “Dirk, you have no idea how many times I’ve arrived at the scene of a tragic accident to find some poor human crying over a corpse, sobbing and asking why couldn’t it have been them? Why couldn’t they have been the one to die? Well I’ll tell you, Dirk, why I refuse a perfectly good soul in exchange for another one. It’s not your time to die.” 

“But does it really matter? I could kill myself right now, and then you could bring August back, right?” You grip the handle of your sword. 

“Dirk. If your fate was to kill yourself right here; then it would be your time to die. And I would have to take both of your souls. And honestly Dirk, stop being so childish. We both know you aren’t going to kill yourself. Now I really must be going. So allow me to take the child’s soul and be on my way.” Death reached his skeletal hand out towards you again, but you just hug her tighter. 

“Dirk, don’t pity the dead. They’re free, painless. Pity the living, who have to go about their lives every day, trapped in this mundane cycle of growing older.”

“You said I could talk to her.” You sound so childish, greedy. But you really need to see her. Make sure she’s alright. Death stiffened. 

“I really don’t think you want to do that.” 

“You said I could.” 

Death shook his skull. “Are you sure, Dirk? Normally the dead aren’t that pleasant to talk to. Especially this young in the otherworld.” 

“I need to.” 

“Alright.” Death sighed yet again, and if he had eyes you’re sure he would be rolling them. 

You sit back and watch, August cradled in your arms. It’s impressive, the way his scythe materializes, how he suddenly looks so much more like the grim reaper you’ve expected all your life. His cloak becomes much more ragged and a kind of mist forms close to the stone ground, lapping at your ankles. It had a lingering scent of earth and despair. 

The smell of death, you guess. 

And then August appeared, kind of shimmering and pitiful looking, but it was her. She looked so lost, and she glanced at Death like they had known each other for a long time, and she couldn’t understand why he’d brought her here. Then she looked at you, and you could see her processing her thoughts for a moment. Then she smiled weakly. 

“Dirk?” Her voice was so soft and forlorn; it seemed to be swept away in the wind. 

“I’m right here.” You hold out your hands to her and she takes a step towards you. She reaches towards you too, and you’re almost touching, but then she cries out, clutching her stomach where the arrow had hit her, blood blossoming from it. 

She started to cry, and her cries turned to moans, and then screams. 

“Make it stop.” She whimpered. “Please, Dirk, make it stop.” You move in to hug her, but she cries out and shuffles closer towards Death. 

“This isn’t what we agreed on.” You look at Death, who seems to be smiling. 

“We never agreed on anything except you seeing her, and here she is. Look all you want.” 

You look at August, seeing her for the small, young, frightened Dersite she was. Blood kept dripping from the wound, and soon the other cuts on her chest started bleeding too. 

“Stop, I didn’t want this.” You look at the ground. 

“This is what you asked for.” Death was having fun playing with you, you could hear it. 

“Stop.” It came out so hard. 

Death seemed taken aback, but August disappeared along with the mist. 

“You’ll see her properly when the times comes, Dirk. You have things left to do in this life before you can rest.” 

And then Death was gone too, and you were left with nothing but a corpse and an empty feeling inside of you. It wasn’t fair, everything was slipping away that you loved. August, the man with the glasses and stupid teeth, the woman with the shiny hair. They’d all slipped out of your life and you never got to tell them you were sorry. Sorry that life was so hard. 

But Jake wasn’t gone yet.


	7. Chapter 7

You set August down, giving her one last apologetic look, and stood up. You probably looked awful, covered in blood and dirt, but you didn’t care. You flew back to your darkened tower and as soon as you touched the obnoxious purple floor you tuned in on your waking self.

The light was so bright, even through your shades, and you lay there for a few seconds. How did you get on the ground?

“Dude. Oh shit, please don’t be dead.”

Was that Squarewave? You can’t tell; your head hurts so much. You can hear the buzzing of messages and more talking but it tunes in and out of being understandable, everything getting meshed into one large ball of pain and confusion.

“Dude, wake up. Please don’t be dead. Oh shit oh sit oh sit please please please do not be dead. I am so screwed if you’re dead. What will I tell your bro? Oh who am I kidding I won’t tell him, and it could be months before he actually finds you and-”

“Squarewave.” You try to say, but your throats too dry. So you swallow a few times and try again.

“Squarewave.”

“Oh thank god, man. I thought you were dead.” Your eyes adjust slightly and you try to sit up, but everything’s spinning. Maybe you’ll just stay lying down for a few more minutes.

“Yes, I heard. And apparently you would just leave my corpse here until my bro finally figured out I was dead. Glad to hear it, Squarewave. I’ll be sure to build Squarewave the second with loyalty too.”

“Oh, no sorry dude, I was just talking to myself. Didn’t mean it.”

“Yeah. Sure.” You manage to sit up, rubbing your temples. You don’t even know where to begin. You’re on the floor, its pitch black outside your window. Squarewave is hovering nearby, looking as concerned as its possible for him to look and you have a shitload of messages, more being sent every second, judging by the never ending buzzing. But it could just be your head buzzing. “How…?”

“Well dude, after you had a mental breakdown over your rejection you kind of zoned the fuck out. I assumed you were on Derse, but then after a few minutes you slumped over and collapsed onto the ground. It was insane, ar started flipping out and messaging the fuck out of your unconscious body. You’ve been out for about 20 minutes, and I bet you have around 1000 messages from him about now. Oh, and I think Jake started messaging you at one point.”

Well that about summed it up. “Thanks, I’m fine. I guess I got a little preoccupied on Derse.” You check your messages, mostly scrolling past Auto-responders multiple messages like ‘ _You ok? Dude, respond; please respond to me. Don’t be dead. If you’re dead can I have all your stuff? Oh wait I’m a pair of shades. Damn._ ’ And then you reach Jakes.

\-- golgothasTerror [GT] began bothering timaeusTestified [TT] at 21:08--

GT: Hey dirk.

GT: Are you there?

GT: Im sorry, really i am.

GT: I don’t know if you’re listening but i honestly hope you are.

GT: Id say one of your better qualities is the fact you never run away from a fight.

GT: Even if you know theres no chance of you winning.

GT: Ive never met you in real life but i feel like i know you.

GT: And i just want to say that even though we cant work out, you don’t seem like the kind of person who gives up.

GT: And you might keep trying.

GT: Please dont.

GT: Youre just going to end up hurt.

GT: And maybe clinically depressed.

GT: And youre going to throw yourself off of your roof.

GT: And its not like i want that to happen i mean, youre a cool friend, bro.

GT: Ok this conversation isn’t going very well, youre not even responding to me.

GT: I guess im just going to stop talking now.

TT: Jake.

TT: Please stop, this is painful.

GT: Took you long enough.

TT: I was otherwise preoccupied.

TT: But I didn’t come here to argue with you.

TT: I need to apologize.

GT: For confessing your feelings?

GT: No, dirk, you really dont need too.

GT: I should be the one apologizing.

TT: Shut up for one minute, Jake.

TT: I’m not apologizing for that.

TT: I’m apologizing that life is so hard.

TT: That nothing really ever works out how you want it to in the end.

GT: Dirk?

TT: That it’s never that perfect day you planned it to be.

GT: Dirk, please.

TT: I need to say I’m sorry before you’re gone. It’s probably not going to happen soon but it will eventually, and this is important to me, Jake.

TT: I’m sorry, sorry for everything. Sorry for all the things I’ve done and said to you and everything I haven’t that you’ve wished I had.

TT: Sorry that I can’t be perfect. Sorry that nothing can be perfect.

TT: Jake, I’m really really sorry.

TT: I owe you so much for always being there for me, for always being a kind of escape from reality.

TT: I know you probably don’t care, but I think I love you Jake.

TT: And nothing that you or anyone could ever say.

TT: Will stop me from trying.

TT: It’s what Striders do, Jake.

TT: Good bye.

\--timaeusTestified ceased pestering golgothasTerror at 12:42--

GT: Despite everything i just said.

GT: I wouldnt have it any other way.

GT: Good bye, dirk.

You close pesterchum and walk past Squarewave to your window without saying a word. The cool night air brushes past your face and the distant honking of cars and the lights from neon signs on the streets make everything seem so normal, but it feels anything but that. You climb out onto the fire escape and make your way to the roof, the cold metal of the stairs seeping through the soles of your shoes.

The wind is brisker on the roof, and you shiver slightly, but not enough to break your poker face. You take one step towards the edge. And then another. It seems so promising, the fall. It would be just like flying.

You balance on the edge, swaying in the wind. All you really need to do is lean forward a bit, gravity will do the rest.

You’re not on Derse, but that doesn’t mean you can’t fly.

You close your eyes and breathe in the cold air. It’s not often that it’s this cold, but it’s so refreshing when it is. Nice to get the average Texan air out of your lungs once in a while and with global warming and all that shit the cold is like a Christmas present.

You sigh. Here you are, standing on the edge of a tall building, thinking about social issues. If you died would you still think about them? You don’t know, you kind of wish Death hadn’t been such an asshole and you could have asked him some questions. But after all you were kind of stopping him from doing his job. You breathe in again, the cold air burning your lungs.

Nothing but emptiness in front of you, it would be so easy. But jumping off a building wouldn’t be the best way to die. The ground wouldn’t be welcoming or merciful and your body would struggle to stay alive even when your mind has resigned to death.

“Honestly Dirk, stop being so childish. We both know you aren’t going to kill yourself.” Deaths words echo through your head. “It’s not your time to die.”

You step away from the edge, your heart pounding. You’ll see August when the time is right; she’ll be waiting for you until the end of time. You sit down on the cold concrete roof, looking up at the cloudy sky. Light pollution and clouds make it impossible to see anything, but you wish more than anything that right now you could see the moon. And then something caught your eye, something bright in the sky.

It was a single star, struggling to shine through the clouds. You gaze at it, and something inside of you starts hurting. Not physical pain, but the emotional pain of wanting someone to love you. And gazing up at that one shining star you do something you haven’t done in years.

You make a wish.

You wish for everything to be alright.

It’s been so long since that day, you can barely remember it. But now that you’re lying here, you _can_ remember it, through all the pain and sadness. The sword through your chest hurts so much and the warm blood blossoming around it scares you. Your life is draining away before your very eyes.

You don’t want to die.

Jack is somewhere nearby, collecting his trophies. You can feel Lil’ Cal being pried from your hands, but you can’t resist. You can’t even muster the energy to say “no.”

You just close your eyes and remember. You remember the conversations with Jake and Roxy and Auto-responder. You remember the pain when Jake said it wouldn’t work. You remember the star and your wish, you remember Death.

This is your time to die, you guess. Your entire life was being summed up into one glorious failure, you couldn’t even protect Dave.

You never got to tell him you were sorry.

And then all the pain stops and Death’s there, smiling.

“I told you, Dirk. Everything works out in the end.”

And August was there. She beamed at you. “Dirk!” She cried and ran towards you. You sit up and feel her embrace, and you smile.

You guess Death’s right; everything did work out in the end.


End file.
